


Goblins, Among Others

by sconelover



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Dumb little scene, I can't write funny things properly, M/M, One Shot, SnowBaz, Watford (Simon Snow), Watford Eighth Year, did I mention goblins, goblins are fit, horny teenage boys, inspired by that one scene in RWRB, simon also thinks the mage is fit, simon generally making a fool of himself, simon thinks goblins are fit, untimely erections, watford-era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23383747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconelover/pseuds/sconelover
Summary: Watford-era AU. Simon and Baz are interrupted by a knock on the door and are having some... er... problems. Goblins may be involved.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 38
Kudos: 151





	Goblins, Among Others

**Author's Note:**

> Random oneshot idea I just had to write down. Thought of the very ending and filled in the rest - just a little scene. 
> 
> This is my first snowbaz fic, and the first fanfic I've written in a very long time. I honestly don't know what I'm doing. Hope you enjoy!

**Baz**

I’m trying to get some work done (for once) when Snow comes out of the shower. 

He clearly has a blatant disregard for the completion of my schoolwork, because he doesn’t bother getting dressed inside anymore. He just walks out in nothing but a towel. Casually, as if he’s not completely aware of the effect that has on me.

Bastard.

I wrench myself back to my paper. It’s due tomorrow and I’ve barely started. I force myself to think about magickal wars, and goblins, and…

Snow is behind me. His body heat radiates onto my shoulders as he loops wet arms around me. “Whatcha working on?”

He’s insufferable. I love it.

I tamp my grin down and pretend to be focussing very hard on whatever bullshit I’m scribbling. “Paper on goblins.”

He rests his head on top of my head, dripping water onto me, but I don’t mind. I want nothing more than to lean back and sigh into this. To make this unassuming, albeit slightly damp, moment last forever. “Buggers,” he says. “You should write about their never-ending quests to kill me and become goblin king, or whatever.”

I swivel around. “You’ll be disappointed to hear this, Snow, but the world doesn’t revolve around you.” 

He’s unfazed. “You know what does, though?”

“What?”

He lifts an eyebrow. (Or tries to. He can’t, so both of them always go up. It’s adorable.) “Your homework schedule.”

He’s staring in my eyes and I hate being this far beneath him, so I stand up. He’s so close that I almost knock into him, and he’s shirtless and golden and his hair is curly and dripping wet. He looks like a fucking Greek god and I want him so bad that I nearly pounce on him. “Does it?”

“Yep.” And then suddenly he’s kissing me, full-bodied and sure. I pull him closer and run my hands up and down his bare back. Simon groans, a sound so low in his throat that I feel it vibrate through me rather than hear it. He tugs at the hem of my shirt, and I pull it off and throw it onto my bed.

I wind my hands in his hair, and he’s got me pinned against the wall, one hand wrapped around the back of my neck, the other in my back pocket. My fingers trail down to his stomach, and arousal spikes through my belly as I start to unwind his towel.  
  
A sharp knock on the door interrupts us and we spring apart as if shocked.

“Fuck.”

“Merlin.”

“Jesus fuck.”

Snow stands frozen next to his bed, stark naked, his eyes darting between me and the door. I almost burst out laughing. I want to save this moment in my mind, forever. Just to torment him. (Forever.)

“Who is it?” I hiss. 

He grabs a shirt at random and starts buttoning it up. “It’s, uh…” 

I think it’s my shirt. He’s got the buttons misaligned and although that’s charming, this really isn’t the time. I reach out and help him fix them.  
  
“Just a minute!” I call. A quick look in the mirror shows me that we are completely and utterly fucked. My hair - _my hair_ \- has never betrayed me like this, but it’s sticking up all over. I run my comb through it in vain and groan. _Simon Snow._ If he can muss up my hair, my one constant, who knows what this boy is capable of?

His eyes are wild, his curls springing up all over the place. “Mage,” he mouths. 

He has to be joking. Of _course_ the Mage pays Simon Snow personal house visits. All the time. Without warning. During extremely convenient times. The Chosen One apparently can’t even grope his boyfriend in peace.  
  
The knocking comes again, three this time, and impatient ones at that. 

_Fuck_. 

“Are you humming?” Snow whispers. “Is that the _Watford_ song?!”  
  
No time to explain myself. I pull a shirt on and risk a look at Simon. “Crowley, Snow,” I hiss. “Put on your trousers, will you?” 

“What the hell,” he mutters.

I turn away from him and continue humming the Watford school anthem. Merlin and Morgana, this usually always works. Sometimes it’s the _only_ thing that works. But like my hair, my prick has apparently decided it’s not on my side today. Simon is just too… well, at the moment, half naked. 

I accept defeat and just sink down into my desk chair instead. 

"Baz! I can't get the door like _this!_ "

I whirl around to see Simon gesturing helplessly at his boxers, trousers gathered around his hips. The panicked look on his face would be comical if the situation wasn’t so dire - if the _Mage_ himself wasn’t standing outside our door - and it takes a Herculean effort for me to keep a straight face. 

“Snow, I can’t help you with this,” I whisper. “I’d probably hinder your efforts.” 

He yanks his trousers up. Mine are beginning to feel tight again - Simon is a jumble of skin and eyelashes and moles. I don’t think I can actually watch this right now. I might pass out. 

I turn away. “Just think of - I don’t know, it’s the _Mage_ . Isn’t that enough to make it go away?” It works for me. Fuck the Mage. (Not like that. _Definitely_ not like that)

Simon - looking very much as if he wants to die - _flushes_. 

I bite back a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

He stammers something unintelligible, refusing to make eye contact. 

At least he seems to hate himself as much as I hate him right now. 

I rise to my feet. “Fine, I’ll get the door.” He blinks up at me from his bed, frowning. “Take deep breaths,” I counsel. “Think of… I don’t know. Orcs. Toads. My aunt Fiona. Goblins.”

Simon buries his face in his hands and mumbles something. 

I pause at the door. “What?”

I catch one glimpse of one eyeball. “Not goblins,” he mumbles. 

Aleister Crowley.


End file.
